


What My Mother Doesn't Know

by MonoclePony



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comfort, Fluff, Future AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 15:11:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6120505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonoclePony/pseuds/MonoclePony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soooo. This isn't SNK. <br/>Because I was a gigantic tit and didn't send out my good friend Annie's Christmas card in time, I crawled into her inbox to beg forgiveness and offer a oneshot if I could do it. <br/>So, uh, this is the oneshot. <br/>It's a little DaiSuga fluff (sorta) set during their first year of college, with Suga caught in the middle of his desire to latch on and to let go and Daichi returning from his first term unfairly changed...<br/>It's not that long. I am not sure how successful it is, if at all. But I tried, and no one should criticise me (do, do criticise constructively I need it) <br/>But uh I hope this tides a few of you over until Hackamore/SFS, they are being worked on as we speak!</p>
<p>Enjoy, and don't forget to leave a comment if you liked it :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	What My Mother Doesn't Know

“My mother doesn’t want me to see you anymore.”

These were the words Sugawara’s held back like a floodgate.

He kept them hidden whilst he waited at the station, bouncing on the heels of his feet to keep himself from worrying about being forgotten in the whirlwind of the first college term. He pushed them down to the depths of his mind when his best friend stepped onto the platform with an army of suitcases, and promptly dropped them the minute he caught sight of him waiting. They vanished completely in the uplift of crushing hugs, playful punches and maddening hair ruffles that were typical of a reunion, and stayed hidden for the next few days, golden in their longevity.

Sugawara finally says them, small and humbled, in the safety of his room with his parents out for the evening.

Daichi only looks over the top of the book he’s reading at first, but when the weight of the words hit he quickly drops it onto his chest. “Really?” he asks. He doesn’t sound very believing. Or very concerned. He has every right to be confused; Suga’s mother has always liked him, the house always a home from home.  

The back of Suga’s head is resting on Daichi’s stomach, and he feels the urge to move it- but can’t quite bring himself to. Instead, he closes his eyes and shuts out the black and white words on his page. He feels Daichi’s eyes on him now, burning a scorch into his cheek as he turns his face away. He can’t look at him. He just _can’t. “You have to tell him,”_ he remembers his mother say, _“he’ll listen to you.”_  Of course Daichi listens to him. He’s listened since they were eight years old. This is the one time Suga doesn’t want him to, however. He keeps his eyes shut, tries to ignore the way his heart is pumping a bruise against his ribs.

His room is one of the warmest and lightest in the house (an older sibling privilege), a blush of green and blue that heralds back to his childhood love of the ocean. In the dying light of the day, it almost feels like they’re underwater, both of them, deaf to the world outside. Suga’s eyes open, flit to the ceiling, then back to where Daichi’s staring. It’s virtually impossible, he thinks, for Daichi to have gotten so much older in the space of a few months. It’s the same boy who used to play with him in the sand when they were four and let him borrow his brand new trainers when they were nine and watched their first volleyball match together when they were twelve. All of these Daichis are one and the same, but there is still something about the version stretched out beneath him that has all of Suga’s insides blushing. His hair is due a cut, there’s the hint of stubble at his jawline from his failure to get up on time to shave, and a far more solid feel to the stomach he’s resting on, but it’s _still the same Daichi_. Sugawara tries to remind himself of this, and wonders if maybe Daichi thinks the same about him.

The silence stretches and yawns between them. Then Daichi lets out a low whistle of a breath. “If this is to do with us…”

“I can’t be distracted,” Suga says, before Daichi can get into details.

“From what?”

“Studying.”

Daichi considers this for a moment, head tilting up to the ceiling. Suga returns to his book, staring fixedly at the same sentence over and over until he’s sure it’s imprinted into his mind. Daichi knows it’s true. He’ll probably feel guilty for doing it, but it doesn’t stop them. Yes, Suga thinks, Daichi distracts. He comforts, he cheers, he angers, he frustrates- sometimes all at once- but Suga can’t imagine it being any other way.

His grip on his book tightens. “She’s worried that I’m not focusing enough,” he adds.

“And she thinks it’s me?”

Suga looks over at him. “She _knows_ it’s you.”

There’s a slight redness to Daichi’s face that he pretends not to see. Suga doesn’t blame his mother. She’s the one who had to deal with the fallout of Daichi leaving. When they were children they promised each other they would do everything together, the way children did. Only later did they realise how much their promises were like paper butterflies, floating on the wind but easily broken. Suga wets his lips and drops his book onto his chest, if only to drift his hand up towards the one waiting for him. “Don’t blame yourself,” he mumbles, “S’my fault. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“Has it always been me?” Daichi asks then, straight to the point. “Even… now I’m gone?”

Suga squeezes his hand in response. It’s enough of an answer, and he knows it’s not all to do with distractions from studying. He doesn’t like to think of the empty ache in his stomach that hits every time Daichi’s name is mentioned. Trying to keep in contact only made things worse; the black screens from missed Skype sessions and the constant texts that went unanswered due to conflicting schedules only fed that ache and made it fat.

When Daichi speaks, his voice is lower and gentler than normal. “Suga… this was your idea, you know. This… break.”

Suga huffs out a breath. “I know,” he says, “I know it was.” Daichi doesn’t know the whole reason, and Suga can’t look at him while he talks about it. “I thought it was for the best.”

“And I agreed with you.” The claim makes Suga wince. “But… I don’t think it _is_ working, do you?”

Suga pays attention then. He turns his head to face Daichi, a frown working its way onto his brow. Daichi’s face is full of the honesty that pulled Suga towards him as children, that nurtured the ‘like’ into a ‘more than like’ as they grew older. They had always been a pair, no matter how much they liked to deny it. Suga can’t remember the day they became ‘official’- what he can remember is the way Tanaka rolled his eyes, nudged Nishinoya in the side with a grin at their interlinked hands and said, “Seriously? You had to _tell_ us?”

Suga bites his lip, the slight sting enough to bring him back to the present. “It’s… not?” he said, trying desperately to play casual.

Daichi’s hand finds its way into his hair, the hands roughened by years of blocking and defending feeling so gentle and tender now. Suga can’t help but lean into the movement, closing his eyes to relish the feeling. “You know it’s not,” Daichi says, warmth flooding into his words. “We did it because we thought it would be good for us. But… I don’t want to do it anymore.” Before Suga can say anything more, Daichi wriggles out from underneath him to set his book on the bedside table. His shoulders have gotten broader.

Suga doesn’t move. He just lays there, watching him with that same sinking feeling in his stomach. It was the same feeling he’d gotten when he’d gone to Daichi’s college open days with him, and the day he’d had to wave him off from the station. That terrible, soul-sucking feeling that…

“There’s not been anyone else, Suga.”

He freezes. “I didn’t expect you to-”

“I haven’t held back.” Daichi pauses. “Well, not intentionally. But every time a pretty girl’s smiled at me, or a guy’s handed me his number, I feel like I’m… I just think of you. And I stop.”

During college, Suga hasn’t really had much chance to meet new people. After tagging along to a house party through a chain of friends and relatives, he’d spent the majority of the night talking to a handsome boy with dark hair. Only after the third drink and the first drunkenly sloppy kiss did he realise that he’d been imagining a different person in his place. The germ festered in his stomach, and that was the last he saw of the boy.

He hadn’t wanted that for Daichi. He wanted him to be happy. He wanted him to find someone that was worth it, someone with confidence and a traveller’s heart who would do things without thinking what other people would think. Someone that was completely and utterly unlike him.

Suga shuts his eyes tight to try to block out the conflicting thoughts, but when he opens them he sees that Daichi is leant over him, brows drawn together as he looks down at him. “I’m sorry if that’s not what you want,” he says, “but I can’t help it. I just feel this… guilt that won’t go away.”

Suga barks out a laugh that’s too loud to be real. “I’m not someone to feel guilty over.”

“Yes you are.” Daichi moves then, straddles Suga’s hips and pins the other boy’s arms above his head. Suga doesn’t even struggle- he knows that if he does Daichi will let go immediately- but he does scoff and look away from his burning gaze. “Please look at me,” Daichi asks, gruff with emotion, and Suga, as always, listens. Daichi’s eyes are full of memories of kisses behind the court, those tight celebratory hugs that lingered just a little too long to be platonic after scoring, the breathless gasps Suga makes when his neck is kissed. Daichi’s eyes are home, and Suga can do nothing but swallow dryly.

“I _want_ to feel guilty,” Daichi says. “I want to brush people aside and tell them I’ve got a boyfriend. I want to visit you at college, and fall asleep talking to you, and distract you from every single assignment you’re given.” He smiles, soft as snow. “I love you, Koushi. I don’t care if you don’t believe me. I just don’t want to be the one who walks away from this.” 

Oh. _Oh._ And then Suga’s breathing again, the air sharp and cold like he’s atop a mountain. His fingers twitch in Daichi’s grip, then curl around the digits holding them inch by inch. Daichi wants to stay. He wants to, he doesn’t feel as though he has to.  Suga remembers how small he’d felt when they would go anywhere as a couple, and everyone would stare at only Daichi and never him. There were times when Daichi had snuck Suga into his house before his parents got home and they overheard chatter about the future of the son with another boy between his legs, and how distracted he’d become. Suga was always the distraction, as Daichi was for him, and he knew it; both of their parents wanted their sons to do well, but not with each other. Suga couldn’t stand it; he felt like a weed rooting Daichi to the spot and refusing to let him bloom, and he’d only cut the stem. The roots remained, under the surface and safe, and with the gentle look Daichi is giving him, they start to wake up and tighten their grip once more. But he still can’t believe… can scarcely hope for it…

Suga breaks his silence in a half-choked scoff that makes Daichi blink, before he lets their eyes met again. There’s no trickery there, no lies. “You love me?” he asks, like Daichi knows the answer to a puzzle he’s been trying to solve for years.

Daichi chuckles and nods, blinking away the tears that want to pool in his eyes. “Yes, I love you. Of course I do. I’ve loved you since… god, I don’t even know when.”

Before Suga can try to argue that he couldn’t possibly be telling the truth, Daichi leans in even closer so that his lips dance tantalisingly close to Suga’s skin. The promise of what’s to come is thick in the air, close enough to reach, and Suga feels his skin prickle with it. He closes his eyes, tilts his head up further, and waits.

And then Daichi’s kissing him. Suga doesn’t notice the feeling at first, the gentle brushing of lips so soft that it feels more like a whisper between skin. But then it comes back more solid, lips more confident as they skim across his own and leave him dizzy, and that’s when he kisses back. The dark haired boy at the party doesn’t come close to the way Daichi kisses. There’s something so inherently careful in the way he handles Suga; there used to be such a frantic energy in the way they would drag one another away and crush their lips together like hungry animals, but they aren’t sixteen anymore. They’ve grown, and Suga almost cries with how tender Daichi’s become.

He kisses slowly, lazily, hands falling from Suga’s wrists and moving to cup his face, thumbs smoothing along his cheeks when he breaks away to plant a kiss against his jaw, his neck, his throat. Suga gives an airy whimper, baring his neck for more as his body quakes. They kiss like they have all the time in the world, like there’s no rush and they can just lie there kissing until the world ends. Suga can imagine staying that way, still holding one another as cities crumble, and can’t think of a better way to spend his time.

When Daichi pulls away, Suga can’t help the way he chases after those lips, vying for a last taste of them, and he sees Daichi smile. “You love me too,” he breathes. It’s not a question.

Suga knows he’s answered it already by the way he trails his now freed arms up Daichi’s chest and lets them linger around his collar, but he ducks his head and avoids his eye all the same. “I thought-”

“I know what you thought.” Daichi leans down, kisses him again, and Suga’s heart hiccups in his throat. He can’t help what Daichi does to him- in just the space of a few kisses Suga’s a teenager again, giddy on the first taste of love, and this time he chases it. He pulls Daichi closer, winds his legs around his hips and keeps him there, the chuckle in Daichi’s throat bubbling up and filling him too. Soon the two of them are laughing, rolling around on Suga’s bed with smiles in their kisses, and all Suga can think of is the boy he’s with. It’s then that Suga realises that he was so wrapped up in not being Daichi’s cage that he hadn’t even considered that he could be a bird trapped inside it too.

When they finally break clean, panting and giggling and speckling kisses across one another’s skin like raindrops, Daichi toys with Suga’s hair, twisting it between his fingertips, and the world is still.

“Do you think your mum would let me see you now?” he asks, watching the pale strands brighten in the gloom of the fading light outside.

“Never,” Suga smiles, trailing a hand down Daichi’s neck to make him shiver, “but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

And it doesn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't even tell if this is good or not anymore but HERE IT IS HOORAY


End file.
